Childhood Stories
by Moonix
Summary: A few one-shots about the Potter and Weasley children and how they grow up. Set before my other story All Was Well, but can be read independently. Epilogue and DH spoilers, obviously.
1. Rose Weasley: Orange

**Orange**

When she heard the other children at the playground talk about starting school soon, Rose went straight to her mother to ask her about it.

"Why am I not going to school with them?" she demanded.

Her mother looked up from the paperwork she'd brought with her to the playground. Rose knew that cousin Ted, who wasn't really a cousin, was going to Hogwarts now. But Ted was much older than these children, and besides, they were Muggles, they couldn't possibly be talking about Hogwarts anyway. Her mother frowned.

"Well... you're not like them, Rosie. Children like you don't need to go to elementary school before they attend Hogwarts," Hermione explained.

"But what if I want to go?" She put her hands on her hips, for extra effect. In situations like these, when the adults didn't trust you to decide something for yourself, it was crucial to appear taller and stronger than you were. So she stood on tiptoes.

Her mother laughed.

"If you really want to go, I'll talk to your father. Alright?"

Rose pondered this, then nodded. If her mother agreed with her, she had already won, anyway. It wasn't like her dad would really object to anything her mother said. Or he would, but in the end, Hermione would always convince him. It was one of the many things Rose admired about her mother.

It took a few days for the subject to come up at the dinner table, despite Rose's constant prodding. When it finally did, her parents had a really, really long talk in the kitchen, while Rose and Hugo tried to listen at the door. Rose was relieved to hear that they weren't fighting, but they were out of Extendable Ears - one of the kneazles had dragged the last one off - and so they couldn't really follow the conversation. At last, the door opened, and they had to scramble away from it before they were caught.

Rose tried to look as innocent as possible, but Hugo immediately stumbled over to his mother and hugged her leg. His nose was running again.

"Rosie stay?" he asked hopefully, and Hermione took him in her arms.

"Rose is going to stay with us, yes," she said, and Rose's heart sank. "But she's going to be away in the mornings now, just for a few hours, and then she's coming back."

"Back?" Hugo repeated with a tremulous voice around the fingers he had stuck in his mouth. "Rosie back?"

"Yes, she's coming back, every day. You'll see, you won't even miss her."

"Can I, mum? Can I really go to school now?"

Hermione laughed again, and Ron appeared in the doorway, arms crossed but eyes twinkling with amusement.

"Not right now, of course. We need to pick a school and register you first. The new school year starts in September, then you can try it out. If it all works out, you can stay." He raised an eyebrow at his wife when Rose jumped up in excitement. "Are you sure that's really my daughter?" he muttered, and Hermione grinned.

"Oh, I wish it were September already," Rose moaned. She had to race up the stairs to her room to count the remaining days in her calendar. Then she flopped down on her bed and stared at the ceiling, which was covered with slowly moving stars. She watched as one constellation morphed into another and tried to imagine what it would be like to attend elementary school with the other children. She could hear her mother soothing a crying Hugo downstairs, and her father talking to someone over the Floo. Sighing happily, she rolled onto her stomach and gazed out the window at the real night sky, which was being inked into the peaceful landscape surrounding their house.

It was going to be magnificent.

* * *

><p>The weeks until September seemed to stretch on endlessly. She accompanied her parents to look at a handful of Muggle elementary schools that were in the neighbourhood, and chose the one that had all kinds of scientific experiments on display. A friendly, elderly man gave them a tour of the laboratory, and there was even a little demonstration of liquids turning different colours. Her father only rolled his eyes, clearly unimpressed by the show, but Rose could not be deterred in her enthusiasm. On the way home, she tried to explain to her father why chemistry was such a fascinating Muggle science, but she had the feeling that she wasn't really getting her point across.<p>

On her day off, her mother took her into London to buy school supplies. The school had sent them a list of things they would need, and Rose wanted a proper school bag. In the third shop, they picked one made of soft, beige leather with large clasps and many separate pockets, and Rose insisted on carrying it around with her for the rest of the afternoon.

They had lunch at a tiny Chinese restaurant tucked away in a side street. Rose almost had a nervous breakdown when she dropped the stupid chopsticks and splattered her new bag with noodles. However, her mother only winked at her, then waved her wand below the table and the stain disappeared. Then she proceeded to order dessert for them both, and Rose had to hug her.

Laden with books, stationery and even a small, plastic lunch box with a cartoon dinosaur painted on it, they finally returned to their house (nicknamed Orange Cottage by the Potters, for the various bright orange kneazles that inhabited it) and presented their purchases. Ron and Hugo were suitably impressed, and Rose couldn't stop babbling about school that night over dinner. Only two more nights to sleep now. She couldn't wait to go upstairs and cross this day off the calendar before going to bed.

And then, all of a sudden, it all went awry.

* * *

><p>The day before the big day, Rose was so bored that she sneaked into the broomshed, borrowed one of her father's brooms even though it was stricty forbidden, and promptly fell off. With bleeding knees, bruised elbows, a grazed chin and a large hole in her favourite sweater, she trudged back inside and let herself be fixed up and scolded by the nanny that came to look after them on the days when both their parents had to work.<p>

A few hours later, when her mother got back, she was yelled at again, and sent to her room. There she discovered that one of the kneazles had chewed on the strap of her beloved new school bag, and when she caught a glance of herself in the mirror, she saw that her chin and knees were now scabbed and ugly, and the hole in her sweater had reopened. She wanted to ask her mum to patch it again, because the nanny wasn't very good at these things, but in the afternoon, she got into a fight with Hugo, and was sent to her room for the second time that day.

Lying face-down on her bed, Rose tried hard not to cry. Everything was ruined now. Her sweater, her new bag, and even her skin. She stared at the wall and chewed on her nails to calm down. She was a grown-up girl now, tomorrow would be her first day of school, and crying was for little babies, like Hugo. She could still hear him wailing downstairs, being comforted by her parents. It wasn't fair, she thought, why did they never send Hugo to his room, why was it always her fault? He'd been the one who had scrawled all over her beautiful painting with his stupid crayons, after all.

That night, Rose went to bed in a very bad mood. She couldn't even look forward to her first day of school properly. The next morning brought a heavy rain, and she woke, disoriented, when her mother came in to rouse her at seven.

"Get up," she said simply, looking tired and stressed. "We need to hurry up, or we'll be late."

Rose got dressed, forgetting that her favourite sweater was still holey, and put on one of her socks backward in the dim light of her bedroom lamp. Hugo was crying again. When she went downstairs, his father was trying to feed him a hot pink fever-reducing potion. Rose had barely started breakfast when she was whisked away again to her mother's car. They had got it only last year, and Rose usually liked riding in it, but when the door closed behind her, she noticed that she had forgotten her lunch box and screamed all the way to the school for her mother to turn around.

"Now, Rosie, remember what we discussed about not mentioning magic in front of your classmates," Hermione reminded her before they got out of the car. Rose nodded. She knew she was only allowed to go to the playground because she was so good at controlling her magic, and she was not going to risk losing her privileges by slipping up in class now.

Clutching her school bag, she followed her mother to the entrance, then on to the gym where she would be sorted into a class. Her mother had told her all this, because she couldn't stay and babysit Rose, she had to go to work. It made Rose feel grown-up, but also a little frightened.

"Oh, gosh," her mother said suddenly. "Oh, Rosie, I forgot to pack your books for today, I'm so sorry. You'll have to ask someone else to share."

"It's okay, mum," Rose whispered. She knew that her mother had spent last night putting see-through covers on all her new books in the living room so they wouldn't get soiled. Still she had to force down the knot of disappointment in her throat. Was it too much to ask that Rose could start school like all the other children?

The gym was crowded with parents and children already, many of them running around and talking excitedly to their friends. Hermione helped her find a seat, then hugged her tightly.

"You'll do fine," she told her, "you're a big girl. I'll pick you up at two, alright?"

Rose nodded, unable to speak. Her mother stroked her hair one last time, then stood up and hurried out, giving her a hasty wave before she disappeared. Then Rose was alone. She turned to the podium at the front, where the teachers were just assembling, and swallowed. If the headmaster hadn't begun his speech in that moment, she probably would have run after her mother.

Rose tried to follow the speech, but it was directed at the parents and she had a hard time understanding some of the words. Then the teachers introduced themselves and she kept her fingers crossed that she would end up with the kind, grey-haired science teacher that had given them the tour of the laboratory. The first names were called, and she wished she had gone to the loo one last time before they left. Crossing her legs as well, she waited for her own name. And waited. And waited.

Had they forgotten her?

Had her parents lied to her, or had they made a mistake with the registration form perhaps? What if they really didn't call her name, and she would be the only child still sitting there at the end, without parents, without a lunch box, without her books...

"Weasley, Rose."

Her panic subsided. Slowly, she made her way toward the front, where most of the other children were waiting. A snicker went through the group. "Weasley? What kind of name is _that_?" she heard one girl whisper. Rose wanted to punch her. But she grit her teeth, telling herself to be good, like her parents expected her to be, and took her place among them. Too late she noticed that she was not with the science teacher, but with an old, stern looking woman who didn't even glance her way once. Instead, a lot of eyes were fixed on her grazed knees and chin, the hole in her sweater, the sock she had put on the wrong way. Her cheeks burned as she tried to disappear behind the other students, wishing her hair wasn't plaited, so that she could hide behind it now.

At the end of her first day of school, when she was sitting on the stairs in front of the entrance door, waiting for her mother, who was late picking her up, Rose was ready to tell her parents that it had all been a bad idea. She did not want to go to school anymore. She wanted to stay home, with Hugo and the nanny, where everything was comfortable and easy and familiar.

But then, something marvellous happened.

She made a friend.

Prem's family originally came from India. His classmates had laughed when he'd explained that his name meant love in Hindu, and so, like Rose, he felt a little excluded. His parents were having a word with the teacher after class, because they were fairly new to the British school system, and Prem had joined Rose on the stairs, offering her an apple when her stomach gave a loud growl.

They talked for a bit, compared their pencil cases and school bags, then promised to sit together at lunch the following day when Rose's father appeared at the gate to pick her up. Rose waved cheerily, all of a sudden enthusiastic about going to school again, and skipped over to her dad, where she took his offered hand.

"I have to take you by side-along apparition," he muttered. "Hugo has a nasty cold, that's why your mum couldn't come."

Rose nodded. They walked in silence for a while, trying to find a secluded enough spot to apparate.

"So, how was school?"

With a smile, Rose looked up at her father and took a deep breath. Then she began to tell him all about it, and didn't stop until they had reached the front door and were greeted by a delicious smell wafting from the kitchen. Hermione bent down to kiss Rose on the forehead and beamed at her.

"I thought you might be hungry, so I made your favourite," she said.

Ron pecked her on the cheek and went to put their damp jackets away. Rose dropped her school bag in the living room, petted one of the baby kneazles that was curled up on the sofa and listened to her mother work in the kitchen.

"Where's Hugo, mum?"

"He finally fell asleep about a half hour before you came, dear. Would you mind setting the table?"

Normally, Rose would have protested, but not today.

Today was a good day.


	2. Albus Potter: Ghosts

**Ghosts**

Albus Potter stared glumly at the bowl of porridge in front of him. The kitchen was empty safe for him and his sister. James had left for Hogwarts the day before, and the sounds of their parents' arguing carried over from the entrance hall.

Lily rubbed at her eyes tiredly. She was chewing on a piece of cinnamon toast, no more enthusiastic about breakfast than her older brother. They winced when the front door slammed and didn't look up as an ashen-faced Ginny entered the kitchen. Their mother started rummaging around the pantry angrily, taking out bottles of milk and juice, then stuffing them back inside.

"We need to go grocery shopping," said Ginny flatly. "Seeing as your father is much too important at work to even do one little household chore..."

This wasn't strictly true, Albus knew. Usually, his father always helped around the house, joking around with Albus and his siblings while doing the dishes by hand and puzzling over books detailing complicated cleaning spells. But lately, he'd been involved in a particularly time-consuming case at the Auror department and barely made it home at night.

"Go get your coats, both of you," his mother sighed. A quill was scribbling down a grocery list on a piece of parchment while she was banging around the kitchen, examining open jars and bottles, occasionally throwing one into the bin.

Lily was already on the stairs, humming quietly to herself, since she enjoyed grocery shopping, but Albus lagged behind.

"Mum, can't I stay? I want to finish my letter to Ted..."

Ginny straightened up. Her slender hands, dusted with freckles, reached up into her hair to redo the messy plait. "Well, alright," she sighed. "But please clear the table. I have to rush, Malcolm is already waiting for my report on the last Cannons game..."

Albus watched his mother and sister leave, bundled up in their raincoats. He finished scrubbing the dishes, resenting that he couldn't use magic to do it yet, then put away the large copper teapot and went upstairs. He went past James' room, which had once belonged to Sirius Black, and walked up another flight of stairs toward his own. It was fairly large, painted a pale, feathery blue with tiny cartoon owls zooming around the walls. Albus especially liked the two large windows with marble sills that you could sit on. He picked up some of the clothes that were littering the floor and threw them across an armchair. Then he flopped down in his hammock.

In truth, he had already finished his letter last night. He hadn't been able to fall asleep, as was often the case when he was cooped up inside all day because of the rain and didn't get any exercise apart from running up and down the stairs until his mother shouted at him to stop making such a racket. He missed being able to sneak into the neighbours' garden to swim laps in their large, outdoor swimming pool while the sun was blazing overhead. Rainy days made him morose.

Restless, Albus got up again. He tugged at one of his socks, which was slipping down his ankle, and quietly padded along the corridor to his father's study. The door opened with a creak. Breathing in the smell of leather, metal and books, Albus entered the room and looked around.

There was an inconspicuous cabinet built into one of the walls. Carefully, Albus removed a small key from his father's desk, unlocked the cabinet and reached inside to remove the elaborately carved stone pensieve and two small glass phials filled with swirling mist. He carried everything over to the desk, nearly losing his grip on the heavy stone basin, and climbed onto the high-backed chair. Kneeling, he pulled the stopper from one of the phials and tipped its contents into the pensieve.

_There was his father, a scrawny little boy with bruised knees and dirty palms, clutching a ragged-looking stuffed animal to his chest while his aunt was screaming at him to get rid of the filthy thing._

_The memory blurred and turned into a dazzling view from the rooftop of a school building. Albus could see smoking chimneys in the distance, swaying trees, the sun glinting off roof tiles, and, far below, pupils running across the schoolyard. A puzzled looking boy sat huddled against the chimney._

_And there was more._

_The phial contained a series of memories from his father's childhood, from the damp, confining space of the cupboard under the stairs, to the acrid smell of Petunia Dursley dyeing what was supposed to be his new school uniform, to the friendly hiss of a cobra._

_A woman was inflating to the size of a small balloon, a dog snapping at a boy's ankles as he scrambled up a tree, and unruly hair was growing back over night. A barred window. A tiny cup of soup shoved through a flap in the bedroom door. Homework, completed in the middle of the night._

Albus resurfaced.

Staring at the pensieve, he gave it a sharp jolt, and the fine strands of memory separated from the original content again. Diligently, Albus caught them in the phial, returned the stopper and placed it on the far end of the desk. He was about to watch the contents of the second flask when he heard the front door open downstairs. Hurriedly, he put the pensieve and the two phials back into their cabinet, locked it and ran to greet his mother.

But it wasn't his mother who was standing in the entrance hall, looking up as Albus came hurtling down the staircase.

"Uncle Bill!"

"Albus," Bill panted, taking off his rain-soaked cloak. "Is your mother home?"

Albus shook his head, taking the cloak from him.

"She's off grocery shopping with Lily," he said. "Why?"

Bill rubbed a hand across his face and looked at Albus. His pale blue eyes were squinting in the gloomy light of the entrance hall.

"Harry was injured in battle, I saw them bringing him in when I dropped by St. Mungo's earlier," he explained in a light, calm voice. Albus swallowed.

"Is he alive?"

Bill's hard expression softened at that.

"Yes, of course he is. But I think you should get ready for a trip to St. Mungo's, maybe pack some clothes for you and Lily. I'll get a few things for your parents. Alright?"

Albus nodded again, taking off at once. He had barely finished stuffing his emergency chocolate bars, an extra set of clothes and a toothbrush for his sister into his backpack when the front door was opened again. He could hear the frantic voice of his mother. Zipping up the bulging backpack, Albus went downstairs, where Bill was levitating Ginny's shopping bags into the kitchen. Ginny hugged him and shoved a few apples into the bag Bill had packed for her.

"Ready to go?"

Bill came back out of the kitchen, slipping into his still sodden cloak. A few minutes later, they were all standing in the entrance area of the hospital, and Ginny went to talk to the nurse at the registration desk before they were all ushered into the elevator and along a corridor.

"I'll wait outside," Bill told them, taking their bags from them.

Albus took a deep breath. It wasn't the first time his father had landed himself in St. Mungo's in the course of his job as an Auror, after all. When he stepped inside the room and saw his father propped up in bed with his arm in a sling and a bandage around his head, covering one of his eyes, smiling at them, Albus felt mostly relieved. He'd seen far nastier things at his various visits to the hospital.

"Shelby and Emerson fixed me up in no time," Harry greeted them, grinning and pointing at his bandages. "It barely hurts anymore."

"Good for you," Ginny said drily, "because I'd have been seriously upset with you if you'd skipped the laundry just to get yourself blown up again."

His father had the decency to look a little guilty, and Albus had to laugh.

Life was never boring for long when you had a family like that of Albus Potter.


End file.
